Happy happy birthday to ArabellaWhitlock!
Him
Everything feels right in the world. So warm and cozy and comfortable, and I don't want to move. Like at all. Like really. I don't want to fucking move, because everything also fucking hurts. I'm sore in places I shouldn't be sore in. I smell like beer. I'm sticky with god knows what. And fuck my face feels like a battered pincushion.
"Edward…" I don't even think Emmett realizes I can't move. I can't even open my eyes because they're crusted shut with probably my own blood and buckets of puss. "Pst! Edward!"
I groan when baby shifts against me, her head leaving my chest for just a second before flopping back down. "What, fuckwad?" I ask.
"Rosie and I are out of here." He pauses and I hear shuffling, but I don't really give a flying fuck as to what they're up to. "It's almost seven, dude."
I'd have flipped him if I could have. "Thank you fucking much. Now get the fuck out of here."
"Hey—" His girl starts before she's cut off, her voice muffled against flesh.
Emmett shushes her. "I heard your parents move around upstairs."
That had me opening my eyes. It actually took some effort to pry them apart, and it fucking hurt. My eyelashes were all clumped together, and I could hardly fucking see Emmett's fucked up face right in front of me despite the morning sunlight coming in through the window making everything too fucking bright.
"Fuck," I groan. "I feel like shit."
His girl snickers while he grimaces. "You look like shit too. Your dad is going to have a fucking melt down, dude."
I carefully slide my body from the couch, leaving my baby behind, wincing when I fall to the floor. Baby sprawls across the space I've abandoned. I poke at her shoulder. She doesn't move. "Hey…baby…wake up."
I try to pull her from the couch, but she's dead fucking weight. Rosalie shakes her head. "Leave her there."
I really hate that idea since she's still wearing her torn dress and my shirt and smells just as much of alcohol as I do. "No fucking way." I shake her. She doesn't move. I bounce her shoulders against the cushions until her whole body is jumping up and down. She grunts and rolls away.
"What are you going to do? Take her to your room? How are you going to explain that one to the parentals?"
I hate the idea. I really do, but there's no fucking way around it. I already have to deal with my fucked up appearance. There's no way Dad and Mama Swan will let anything slide if they find her in bed with me. Emmett and Rosalie tip toe to the door, and just before they're out, Emmett whispers over his shoulder, "Rosie and I fucked in your bed! Be careful!"
I fucking hate him, and to stop myself from starting a fight I know I'll lose, I bury my face in baby's hair. Underneath all the stench, I can just barely smell the coconut perfume she sprayed on herself yesterday. I try yanking on her shoulders again.
"Baby…Come on, baby. Wake up." Her eyes squeeze tight before she rolls her head the other way.
"Wake up, baby-face." I poke at her some more, smoothing my fingers down her soft cheeks. "It's time to get up. Go to the bathroom or something. Just don't stay here."
I fist my fingers in her slash my shirt, willing her eyes to open, and that's when I hear it. The feet on the stairs, the timed stomping as someone descends. Time's up. So I quickly slither away and through my door, shutting it softly behind me, wishing she was still in my arms. I hate myself even more when Mama Swan's yelling reverberates through the door.
"Isabella Marie Swan! What the fuck is this?!"
Have any of you ever had the crusted eye thingie? Bleh.
